Atonement: An Interracial Romance (Possession Duet Book 2)

by T. K. Leigh

  “Do you think they’ll let us take one of these home?” she jokes, sitting back in her chair. “It’ll be a sure indicator you’re excited about something.”

  Grinning deviously, I grab her hand and press it against my groin. “Don’t need a heart rate monitor to do that.”

  She averts her gaze, fighting against a smile. “You really are shameless.”

  “It helps me forget about the pain,” I admit honestly.

  “Does it hurt a lot?” she asks quietly.

  “A little.” I shrug, downplaying how uncomfortable I truly am. The last thing I want is for her to feel even more guilty about what happened. “It’s better now that you’re here. You’re the best medicine I could ask for.”

  “Knock, knock,” a voice sings as the door swings open, a chipper blonde in blue scrubs sauntering into the room. Londyn quickly replaces her face mask. “How’s our patient holding up, Londyn?”

  “Great.” She stands, winking at me as I attempt to adjust myself, using the blanket to cover up any lingering proof of my erection. “All things considered, of course.”

  “Good to hear. Doc wants his bandages changed. It’s a bit of a process, so it might take around an hour. Maybe longer. The staff will buzz you when you can come back.”

  “No need.” She reaches into her purse and retrieves a cell phone and charging cord, setting it on the bedside table. “It’s still the same number as you had, Wes. Mia took care of setting it up for you. If you ask me, that girl deserves a raise.”

  “Duly noted.”

  She starts to step away from me, but I grab her arm, stopping her.

  “I love you.”

  Something flickers in her gaze as she peers at me. I can’t quite explain it. Not sadness, but it’s not the same carefree feeling we enjoyed mere seconds ago. Or at least that I thought we enjoyed.

  “I love you, too.” But there’s an emptiness in her tone as she says those words. Like they physically pain her.

  She grits a half-hearted smile, then makes her way out of the room, an unsettling premonition forming in the pit of my stomach.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Londyn

  I lean against the wall right outside Wes’ room, squeezing my eyes shut and blowing out the breath I’d been holding. I’ve endured a lot of shit in my life, faced my fair share of difficult situations. None compared to looking into Wes’ eyes, knowing he’s currently in pain because of me. He doesn’t want me to blame myself, but it’s impossible not to.

  From the instant I stepped out of my workshop and saw the house engulfed in flames, I knew I had something to do with it. A part of me hoped the investigators would uncover a different cause of the fire, like faulty wiring or electrical, even though it had all been replaced and was up to code. So when Miss Clara called to let me know about Grady’s arrest, it took the breath out of me. Reminded me I am to blame.

  How much more can I endure? How much more suffering can I force Wes to endure? Hasn’t he been through enough?

  As much as I want to fight for this, for us, I fear it’s a battle we’ll never win. That not even the strongest love can overcome the forces constantly threatening us.

  And it won’t ever stop. Wes may not see it, but I do. Today it was a house fire. What will it be tomorrow? Even with Grady behind bars, that doesn’t mean we’re safe. There will be another Grady. There always is.

  “You okay, Londyn dear?”

  When a hand touches my arm, I open my eyes. Gemma, one of the nurses, stands in front of me, brows creased in concern.

  I blink back my tears, clearing my throat and nodding. “Of course. Just a bit…overwhelmed.”

  “That’s to be expected. Why don’t you get out of this place? Relax. I understand your need to be here as much as you can, but you’re worn down. You won’t be any good to Wes once he’s released if you don’t take care of yourself, too.”

  I suck in a deep breath and nod. “You’re right. Thanks,” I say blankly as I push away from the wall.

  I’ve never felt so exhausted before in my life. And it’s not only due to the lack of sleep the past few days.

  I’m emotionally drained.

  Just when I think things will be okay, that our love is strong enough to endure any obstacle, something is thrown in our path, reminding us it’s a fool’s wish.

  Things will never be okay.

  There will always be something standing in our way.

  We were naïve to think otherwise.

  “How is he?” Hazel asks, approaching me once I walk into the waiting area.

  I smile sadly. “The same old Wes.”

  I should be thrilled he’s awake. That he doesn’t appear to be suffering from any of the psychological effects they warned me about. That he still has so much love for me.

  But it’s hard to be happy at a time like this.

  “That’s good, right?”

  “Of course. I just…” I trail off, struggling to put everything I’m feeling into words.

  “Londyn, sweetie,” Hazel soothes, running her hands down my arms. “What is it? You can—”

  “You!” a shrill voice interrupts, startling me.

  I jump back, whipping my head toward the source as an irate Mrs. Bradford storms toward me. The man I recognize as Wes’ father trails behind her, almost reluctantly.

  “This is all your fault. You did this to him. You just had to rope him into your life, didn’t you?”

  “Lydia, please,” Mr. Bradford says in a deep, commanding voice. “Now isn’t the time. Emotions are running high.” He looks at me. “On both sides, I’m sure.”

  “My emotions are not running high,” she insists. “It’s the truth. She may not have lit the match that nearly took my baby boy from me, but she’s just as responsible for almost killing him.”

  I should argue, tell her I’m no more at fault than Wes, but I don’t have it in me. Not when her words mirror my own thoughts.

  “How would you feel if he did die?” she continues. “Would you even care? Or is he just someone else you’ll toss aside, like your husband? Are you already sleeping around behind his back, like you did with Nick? The minute I saw you, I knew you were bad news. Then the truth of what you did came out.”

  “Which were all lies,” Hazel says in my defense.

  “You’ve caused nothing but destruction in my son’s life. And I won’t have it anymore. I don’t care what I have to do. I will make sure you spend the rest of your life behind bars. Where you belong for nearly killing the father of my granddaughter!”

  With every word she speaks that echoes the exact thoughts I’ve struggled with, my blood pressure rises. It feels like the walls are closing in on me, accusatory eyes torturing me, reminding me I am at fault. I am to blame. I did almost cost Wes his life. There’s only so much one person can endure before they reach their breaking point.

  And I’ve hit mine.

  “I know!” I shriek, my voice echoing in the waiting room, catching the attention of some of the nurses.

  One of them gives me a questioning look, as if asking if I need security to intervene. But I know they’ll only kick me out after Mrs. Bradford has her way. It’s not worth it. If I’m being forced out, I want to leave on my own terms. No one else’s.

  Drawing in a deep breath, I refocus my stare on Mrs. Bradford. “I know it’s my fault. Okay? Is that what you want to hear? Do you think this has been a walk in the park for me? It hasn’t. And every day, I’ve wondered when the other shoe would finally drop. I was too blind, and maybe a little selfish, because I wanted to keep him mine for just a little bit longer. Because, as much as you don’t want to hear it, I love him. He is the first man I’ve been with who’s fought for me. Who makes me feel loved. Who gives me that love without conditions. Without strings attached. Which is why it pains me to do this…”

  “Londyn,” Hazel warns, sensing what I’m about to say.

  “But you’re right,” I continue, ignoring her. “I’ll only keep bringing harm to
your son. I love him with everything I have. But I love him enough to walk away when it can spare his life. So that’s what I’ll do. Okay? You win.” I swipe at my tears, my voice catching. “You win,” I whisper.

  Mrs. Bradford blinks, almost taken aback by my statement. She obviously didn’t expect me to concede so easily. I’m surprised by it, too. But for the first time in a while, I finally see things clearly.

  Snapping out of her momentary shock, she clears her throat, straightening her posture, expression exuding that of superiority. “It’s about time one of you came to your senses.” She spins on her heels, holding her head high as she makes her way toward the nurses station.

  Mr. Bradford follows, but he glances over his shoulder at me. I expect him to shoot me a warning glare. Instead, there’s something else in his gaze. Remorse. Regret. Maybe even an apology?

  “You’re not serious, are you?” Hazel whispers, forcing my attention away from Mr. Bradford as a nurse leads them toward the administrative wing, presumably to speak with the doctor while Wes has his bandages changed.

  “I think I am,” I say weakly. “It’s probably best for all involved.”

  “Best?” Hazel shoots back, crossing her arms in front of her chest, her expression heavy with disbelief. “How the hell is walking away from a man who’d do anything for you ‘best for all involved’?” She uses air quotes, then recrosses her arms.

  “Have you seen the shit people are saying online about my case? Especially after Sawyer’s interview?” I dig my fingers through my hair, tugging at it, my throat tightening with emotion. “Every day…hell, every minute, keyboard warriors leave comments saying I’d be better off dead. And Grady, the guy they arrested for the fire? He’s like every single other person online. Except he had the opportunity to do something and took it. He could have killed us. Almost killed Wes. And Grady’s just one person out of thousands. Have you read some of comments on the article about his arrest?”

  She slowly shakes her head.

  “They’re calling him a patriot. A hero. They just wish the fire department hadn’t gotten there so quickly because, and I quote, ‘Nigger lovers deserve the same fate as niggers.’”

  Her eyes glisten with tears. “You said it yourself, Londyn. They’re keyboard warriors. Hiding behind their computers.”

  “For now. But it’s only a matter of time before someone decides to try something else. What happens if they do kill him next time? Or you? Or Diego?” I swipe at my tears, an excruciating pain squeezing my chest. “I can’t have that on my conscience.” I hesitate, then add, “Sawyer called the other night.”

  “And you answered?”

  “I’d spent all day here and was exhausted by the time I got home. When I didn’t recognize the number, I worried it might be the hospital. I was operating on zero sleep.”

  “What did he say?” she asks pointedly.

  I snort. “Asked how I liked his interview last week.”

  “Ass,” Hazel snips out.

  “He also told me he’d agreed to assist the prosecution with their case and would testify if it came to that. Reminded me that he couldn’t claim spousal immunity and refuse to testify if he signed the divorce papers I’d served him. Then he said his offer was still on the table.”

  She blinks, jaw dropping, eyes wide. “You’re not seriously considering that, are you?”

  “Maybe I should.”

  When I spoke to him the other night, I made it clear I wasn’t interested. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so rash. It’s not what I want, but if taking Sawyer up on his offer means I can keep Wes safe, why wouldn’t I do it?

  “So you’re just going to give up? Go back to your old life? Go back to being the old Londyn?”

  “I’m not giving up,” I argue.

  “No? What do you call this? Because from where I’m standing, that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

  “You may think I’m giving up. But I know when it’s time to throw in the towel. And it’s time. It’s been time, but I stupidly believed people were better than this.” I hang my head, a profound exhaustion settling in my bones, making even breathing a laborious process. “I guess I was wrong.”

  Her lips pinched into a tight line, she leans into me, her eyes on fire. “I thought you were stronger than this. I thought…” Her voice catches. “I thought you wanted to rise above, like your mama taught you.” She pins me with a stare. “I guess I was wrong.” She whirls around, storming inside a waiting elevator, the doors sliding closed.

  I exhale deeply and collapse onto a nearby chair, defeated. I pinch the bridge of my nose, wondering if Hazel’s right. Maybe I am giving up too quickly. Wes said he’d fight for me. Why can’t I fight for him?

  Or maybe this is me fighting for him. Like I told Mrs. Bradford, I love him enough to leave him in order to keep him safe.

  “You’re really walking away?”

  I snap my head up, my breath hitching when I see Julia standing a few feet away, her sad eyes trained on me. There’s no question in my mind she overheard my conversation with Hazel.

  I should leave, keep my distance. But I’m too tired to care about a bullshit protective order right now.

  “What choice do I have?” I say through the painful lump in my throat, in my chest, in my soul. “I need to do something. So I either go back to my ex or take the latest plea deal and spend what I think is now up to five years in prison. Either way, I’m away from Wes, so he won’t get caught up in my path of destruction.”

  “Londyn, I—”

  “I’m sure Nick will be thrilled to learn this,” I interrupt, jumping to my feet. “He won. That’s all he’s ever cared about. The win. You may refuse to see it, refuse to see that he’s a master manipulator who will do and say anything he needs in order to maintain the upper hand over everything.”

  I should stop, should walk away, but I can’t control the words flowing out of me, saying everything I’ve kept locked inside for weeks.

  “I used to think you were this amazing, strong woman who broke free from her past to go her own way. But I was wrong. The Julia I met last summer wouldn’t put up with someone like Nick. Wouldn’t allow him to dictate her every move.” I pull my bottom lip between my teeth. “I guess I misjudged you.”

  Tears streaming down my face, I push past her and scurry toward the elevator, needing to get as far away from this family as possible. I jam my finger against the call button, wanting to scream in frustration when it seems to take forever for a car to arrive. When one finally does, I rush inside, keeping my eyes lowered.

  “You’ll break his heart,” I hear as the doors start to slide closed.

  A voice tells me to let it go. But I can’t. I thrust my arm forward, pushing the doors back open, and meet Julia’s gaze once more.

  “But at least it’ll still be beating. At least people who think I should pay for hurting an ‘innocent’ man won’t harm him in the process.” I pause, cocking a brow. “Unless you have a better idea?”

  She parts her lips, as if wanting to confess her deepest secrets. But as always, something holds her back. Nick holds her back.

  She lowers her head, remaining silent, despite her eyes screaming at someone to finally help. I can’t blame her. I was once her, too. And that’s what’s so sad about this. Because as much as I want to shake her, scream at her, hate her, I can’t.

  “That’s what I thought.” I allow the doors to slide closed.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Weston

  “You know…”

  At the sound of the familiar, teasing voice, I look up from reviewing emails on my phone. I can’t help the smile that tugs on my lips at the sight of my sister.

  “If you wanted to get out of coming up with a good toast for our dinner Monday night, you could have just said something.”

  I blow out a small laugh, extending my arms. Julia rushes into them, squeezing me tightly. I wince slightly from the pain, but I don’t care. I’ll gladly suffer through the mild discomfort j
ust to feel my sister in my embrace.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she sobs against my chest before pulling back. “If we had stayed…”

  “No,” I say sternly. “Don’t even go there, Jules. You weren’t there. I was. And I am so glad it was me. You know I’d do anything for you.”

  She nods. “I know. But maybe we can cross ‘walk through fire’ off your list now.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me,” I say with a smile.

  She squeezes my hand as she sits in the chair beside me, a flicker of something in her expression. If I didn’t know her as well as I do, I probably wouldn’t notice it.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You want to tell me something. What is it?”

  “Wes, I—”

  “My poor baby!”

  We both snap our eyes toward the door where my mother stands, protective gear covering her pant suit, tears welling in her eyes. I’d like to think her reaction is genuine, but after everything she’s put Londyn through, after the act she put on just to turn the public against her, I know it’s all a show.

  I grit out a smile. “It looks worse than it is.”

  It’s not a complete fabrication. While quite a bit of my body is currently covered in bandages, most of the burns are no worse than a bad sunburn. It’s my leg and foot that are in rough shape. If the medical staff weren’t taking every precaution to prevent any sort of infection whatsoever, my mother probably wouldn’t even notice anything’s wrong with me, apart from the skin on my face being slightly red, as if I spent too much time in the sun.

  In the middle of the winter.

  Then again, it is Atlanta. Anything’s possible.

  “It doesn’t make this right, Weston.” She rushes toward the bed. Practically tossing Julia out of the chair, she sits in it and grabs my hand in hers. My dad follows behind, observing, calculating, analyzing.

  Just as he always did in chess.